


Primum Non Nocere

by thevalesofanduin



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Character Death, M/M, Mentions of alcoholism, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, this happens in a nightmare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-29 22:37:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10146155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thevalesofanduin/pseuds/thevalesofanduin
Summary: What is it really like, playing God?Or: the one where Leonard struggles with what it means to have brought Jim back to life





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a happy fic. It has a hopeful ending but it’s 4.200 words of emotional torment to get there. Just so you’ve been warned...

It’s dark.

So dark that Leonard can barely make out his own fingers when he lifts them in front of his eyes.

He’s got a bad feeling about this, the one that settles deep in the pit of ones stomach and makes the senses scream  _run_  and  _danger_.

He turns his head, tries to look around even though he knows it’s in vain. This is the sort of dark the eyes don’t get used to.

There is a barely-there breeze, like someone has left a window open yet it’s obvious the space he’s in doesn’t  _have_  windows. He strains his ears, tries to find any other noise only to realize the mantra  _you did this_  is being carried on the breeze.

It makes the hairs on the back of his neck rise and he clenches his hands into fists.

“Who’s there?” He demands yet his voice trembles and his eyes dart around in panic.

But the dark does not lift and the soft, haunting whisper does not stop.

_You did this, you did this_  and all Leonard wants to do is scream  _what_ ,  _what did I do!?_

Suddenly a dim light flickers on, seeming almost to hesitate a few times before basking one side of the room in an artificial, white glow.

There, underneath the light stands a biobed. The person on it is wearing a pastel blue medical gown, sitting with their legs dangling over the side and their back to Leonard.

The person whose hair is a painfully familiar shade of blond.

There’s a lump in Leonard’s throat, a hesitant “Jim?” falling from his lips.

But Jim doesn’t turn, it’s like he hasn’t heard Leonard. So caught up in his own world that it’s unlike Jim who is normally so attentive.

Leonard’s eyes dart around the room again, the palms of his hands clammy and when he finally gets his body to move towards the biobed it feels as if his feet are lead.

As his feet carry him closer the whisper continues, transforms even into a hoarse muttering where the speaker’s voice hitches and breaks every few syllables almost like a broken record would.

It’s Jim, Leonard realizes with dawning horror. But Jim’s voice is so broken, so pained and tormented that he hadn’t recognized it before. But he’s so close now that he sees Jim’s body slowly rocking back and forth and he just _knows_ that it’s Jim he hears.

He pauses then, not by choice but simply because his body doesn’t want to move. It’s self-preservation, he thinks. He’s seen Jim in horrible states – dead, Len, he was _dead_! – and he knows that he’ll break if he has to see his friend like that again. Both his mind and his heart would break in ways he thinks he would not be able to repair.

But he’s a doctor, taking care is in his blood and he loves Jim, loves him so much that he pushes himself to move. To round the bed and move further until he stands in front of his friend.

Jim stops rocking the moment Leonard stands still. It’s like a switch that turned where he goes from broken mumbling to sitting completely still.

The room’s gone almost completely silent, all that’s audible is Leonard’s slightly harsh breathing and a constant mechanical zoom from the light.

“Jim,” Leonard whispers, fear and trepidation seeping into his voice, weaving through his body. “Jim.”

“You did this, Bones.” Jim murmurs softly then. His eyes lift suddenly, a flash of deep blue skies that are burning into Leonard’s.

The air feels heavy and Leonard almost takes a step back. “What did I do?” His voice is hoarse and he has to force the words out. Because he knows he shouldn’t ask because he’s quite certain he doesn’t want to hear the answer.

“This,” Jim gestures at himself, seems to perk up a bit with a small smile on his lips. “Me, alive.”

A shuddering breath lets out the pressure and darkness that had been building up in Leonard. A small wave of relief and hope sweeps through him.

Jim’s alive.

He doesn’t have to see his friend laying on a cold table, surrounded by a body bag. Skin pale, body lifeless and feeling as if the sun itself had just burned out.

He almost falls to his knees with grateful tears but instead reaches out a hand, lays it against Jim’s cheek because he’s allowed this moment of intimacy.

After all he’s been through, he’s _allowed_.

Jim’s eyes widen at the touch but it’s not in pleasurable surprise.

Instead a low, keening sound passes his lips and he shrinks away, panicked and pained eyes meeting Leonard’s. “Bones, don’t touch me.” He begs brokenly.

Leonard rears back a step, hand falling to his side and almost stumbling in his haste to _not_ touch Jim. He wants to, _oh_ how he wants to soothe that pain. “What’s wrong?”

Jim’s eyes dart around, panic setting in and he raises shaking hands in front of his eyes as he tries to figure out what is wrong. “I… your touch,” he starts but chokes on his own words, lowers his head with a pained whimper.

“Jim?” Leonard’s own hands tremble too as he stretches them out to Jim. He lets them hover in the air around his shoulders, a dark worry curling in his gut. “Look at me.”

Jim does.

He raises his head slowly, a hand up to his face and tears are gathered in his eyes.

There’s blood dripping from his nose.

Leonard’s world seems to fall apart in just that split second.

“Bones, help.” Jim whimpers, takes his head in his hands and cries red tears of blood.

It’s blood from his nose, his eyes, his _ears_ and it’s like he’s bleeding out through every pore of him. His body fighting itself, trying to flush him out.

_Kahn’s blood_

“Bones, Bones!” Jim cries, voice slightly choked up as his lungs fill up with blood, slowly drowning him from the inside out. “Not again. Don’t let me die again…”

Leonard’s mind is a whirlwind of panic and logic, both fighting to overtake him and instead of one winning over the other they settle in a whirring of uncertainty, of fear, visions of losing Jim and Leonard wants to move but he _can’t_.

Jim’s falling apart right in front of his eyes and it’s his fault, _he did this_ and now he can’t fix it.

A heavy hand falls onto his shoulder then.

He looks up slowly with dread in the pit of his stomach, straight into the deadly pale face of his father whose eyes are filled with disapproval and contempt. “You reap what you sow, son.”

_His father_

Leonard feels his throat constrict, can’t breathe for a moment because it’s his father.

His hero, his role model and the man whose blood forever stains Leonard’s hands.

_Oh God, I’m going to be sick_ , he thinks.

“You couldn’t save me, son.” His father admonishes and there’s a cruel smile around his lips. “You couldn’t save me, what makes you think you could have saved him?”

There’s tears down Leonard’s cheeks, his whole body shaking but under his father’s grip he can’t move. Can’t lift an arm to stop Jim from slowly bleeding out, can’t move his head to look away.

He can only stand, see what he’s done and scream until his voice is gone.

 

\---

 

It’s dark.

Only a few traitorous rays of artificial moonlight find their way through the gaps between curtain and wall, illuminating the room but barely.

It’s not enough to rouse Leonard from sleep, although his twisting and turning – arms, legs, everything tangled in the sheets as he writhes in distress – would imply that he’d be very grateful to be awoken.

A hoarse, tormented cry suddenly escapes Leonard followed by a low whine and hiccupped breaths. His whole body convulses, seems to draw in on itself before he shoots up with the name “Jim” on his lips. For a moment he sits straight up in his bed, eyes impossibly wide but unseeing and whole body trembling.

“Fuck,” Leonard mumbles after he’s regained a semblance of wakefulness and self-control, bringing a shaking hand to his sweaty forehead. He pushes his hair backwards and lets himself fall back against the pillow with a heavy sigh.

He stares up at the ceiling as he tries to get his heart to calm down, his body to loosen from the fight-or-flight feeling he always seems to go into when waking up like this. Which nowadays is more often than not he notes with worry.

He throws off the blanket and swings his feet to the ground, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. There’s tears burning in his eyes and it almost physically hurts to not run to Jim’s apartment and check on him, make sure he’s doing well – is alive.

He’s felt like this ever since he brought Jim back. Every time he sees his friend he fears it’s the last, expects him to drop down sometimes because, hell, Jim isn’t supposed to be alive!

He still sees Jim in the body bag. Feels the devastation, the loss. Jim, dead.

But thank God, Jim is alive and it overjoys as much as terrifies Leonard.

But it’s not Jim that terrifies him.

No.

It’s himself.

Because he defied the fundamentals of life, broke all of the medical ethics he swore to operate by and all for one man. If he’d do this for Jim, would take all he’s known for his whole life and breaks it just for one man, what else will he do?

He’s a doctor, damn it. Not God.

 

He gets out of bed and finds himself reaching for the whiskey, high on one of the shelves in the kitchenette.

His hand freezes halfway there, though. For a moment he watches the bottle with dawning horror in his eyes.

_Always a way out with alcohol, isn’t there?_  Jocelyn is screaming in his mind, standing in what used to be  _their_  living room in her nightgown, anger and disappointment on her face and a bottle of bourbon in her hand that she accusingly points at Leonard.

Leonard drops his hand, stumbles back like he’s been hit and in the end rests a hand onto the dining table to steady himself as his whole body shakes.

Christ, I'm better than this! He tells himself. Alcohol ruined his life once, he'll not let that happen again - won't let himself get drunk to stumble to Jim's flat next door.

He backs away from the kitchenette with an accusing glare before getting himself into a pair of sweatpants and fleeing to the gym.

He runs and runs until he's drenched in sweat, exhausted and his mind more focused on putting one foot in front of the other than with other things.

 

\---

 

They meet for breakfast at Jim's flat. When Jim opens the door he's all twinkling eyes and amused smile - Leonard can't help but feel relieved. "I thought we said breakfast, not lunch." He waves Leonard in, the table already set with food.

"Went to the gym." Leonard comments offhandedly, hoping Jim doesn't ask what possessed him to go so early.

He doesn't.

So Leonard relaxes a bit, sits down and finds himself joking: "There's also this thing called brunch."

Jim's pointed look is enough to hazard a guess at his feelings about brunch. "So classy."

"I'm all class, you know that." Leonard drawls as he pours them coffee.

Jim meanwhile nearly chokes on a croissant with a huff of laughter.

They enjoy the rest of their brunch with their usual bantering and discussions and by the time they’re clearing the table Leonard feels a bit like his old self again.

Leonard is drying a plate when Jim’s eyes wander to the clock. “Got a meeting with Scotty in half an hour.” He grins at Leonard. “He says he’s got good news on the progress on our new Enterprise. Not so long now and we’ll be back amongst the stars, Bones.”

Back amongst the stars, the vastness of space, the _danger_. Because they get themselves into trouble all the time and while it’s good to go home Leonard can’t help but feel panicked for a moment.

Jim takes the plate from his hands, puts it onto the counter and turns to his friend with a frown. “You do want to go back, right?”

“Of course,” Leonard nods because of course Jim took his silence the wrong way. “But you know how I feel about –”

Jim’s cough stops Leonard midsentence and his eyes snap up to Jim, heart in his throat.

It sounds horrible. Like twenty-years of smoking horrible. The doctor in him says _it’s just a cough_ but the emotional side of him whispers _it’s a bad cough_.

It’s enough to drive Leonard’s mind into overdrive. Because what if this is it? What if death came back to claim what is hers? What if after all of this he still has to lose Jim?

“Jim, are you getting sick?” Leonard has to force the words out of his constricting throat and hopes the fear thrumming through his veins isn’t visible in his eyes.

The caution that falls over Jim’s entire posture, the way he takes a small step backwards suggests that at least _something_ must’ve shown on Leonard’s face. The indifference of Jim’s shrug feels fake and his “it’s just a cold” does nothing to settle Leonard’s nerves.

Leonard’s hands itch to reach out and check Jim’s temperature and he takes a small step closer.

Jim crosses his arms in front of his chest defensively and he shakes his head in defiance. “It’s nothing, Bones.”

“Just wait a few minutes, Jim. I’ll grab my medkit from my room and –”

“Damnit, Bones. I’m fine. It’s just a cold.” Jim waves an angry hand in the air.

Leonard feels absolutely helpless. “Just let me –”

“I’m fine.” Jim grits out through clenched teeth and then he’s pushing past Leonard, walking into the bathroom with anger in his step and his hands clenched into fists.

The slam of the door screams _go away_ and Leonard does although it doesn’t feel like he’s in control of his body anymore.

He feels numb. Scared.

Jim’s never had such a strong reaction to his worrying before.

He laughs it off, cracks a joke or sighs in annoyance because _I’m fine, Bones_ and _you’ll fix me anyway_.

But not now.

Which means something is wrong. Wrong in a way Jim thinks Leonard can’t fix or doesn’t want him to see.

_You couldn’t save me, son, what makes you think you could have saved him?_

Leonard counts himself lucky he actually makes it to his own bathroom before throwing up.

 

\---

 

A week later Jim receives the all-clear of the rebuild of their new starship and the confirmation that there’s an available slot for take-off in just a few days. When the crew finds out it only takes a few hours for Scotty to organize a gathering in one of the local bars to celebrate.

Leonard goes as well if only because Jim stands in front of his door until he shrugs into his leather jacket and is ready to go.

Jim comments on his looks as well. On his hair that’s sticking in every direction and the bags under his eyes with a worried glance.

“Must be catching what you had last week.” Leonard mumbles because faking being sick is easier than admitting he is barely sleeping and probably needs to see a shrink at this point.

Jim clasps him on the back promising that “some company will do you well”.

And that’s how Leonard now finds himself standing in a bar pretending to listen to Scotty, nursing a whiskey and with every sip remembering that he’s never really been happy whilst drinking.

He’s on his second drink when he feels the familiar switch of his mood into something sad and pitiful, something he’s not unaccustomed to when drinking. He excuses himself, puts his drink on the nearest table and leaves the bar.

It’s a testament to how tired he is that he doesn’t even notice he’s being followed until Jim’s voice reaches his ears.

“Leaving already?”

Leonard turns around to find Jim standing in front of him, a frown on his face and his eyes shimmer with worry when his eyes catch Leonard’s.

Leonard shrugs, turns his eyes away because it always feels like Jim can look straight into his soul and he doesn’t really want his friend to see what’s in there. Not now. “Just not feeling well.”

The corners of Jim’s lips curl into a grimace and there’s a sad look in his eyes when he mumbles: “Yea, that happens when you don’t sleep.”

Leonard’s eyes snap up at Jim and he’s not sure if it’s dread or panic that courses through his veins all of a sudden. 

For a moment Jim seems to struggle with his emotions, glancing sideways with a frown before he turns his accusing blue eyes to Leonard. “I hear you at night, Bones. The walls are not that thick.” He pauses, seems to take a moment to compose himself and when he speaks again he’s more Captain Kirk then Jim. “You’re not sleeping, it’s obvious you’re not well and I worry. I don’t want to lose you as my CMO. So I’m asking as your friend to find help. Talk to someone.” His tone turns slightly pleading then, Jim taking a step closer. “Please. Don’t make me pull rank on you.”

Leonard rears back, feels like he’s been slapped in the face. He can’t deny the truth of the words, the question. He _should_ talk to someone. But to hear it from Jim’s lips causes an avalanche of dawning realization of how messed up he actually is and it _hurts_.

“It helps, trust me.” Jim nods and at Leonard’s frown raises an eyebrow, gaze hardening and tone accusing. “Did you think I wasn’t forced to talk to someone about this? I _died_ , Bones.”

Leonard flinches and turns away his eyes. “No need to remind me.”

“You think that didn’t affect me?” Jim asks, voice getting louder and tinted with agitation. “You think I’m not terrified of every headache, ever sneeze that this miracle won’t last?” He asks, pushing and pushing with angry, bitter words.

And perhaps, if Leonard hadn’t fallen so deep into his pit of despair and caught by the darkness that is his own mind he would’ve gathered Jim in his arms. Would’ve kissed his hair, cried and comforted.

But instead all he hears are his own fears echoed in Jim’s words. It terrifies him, to see his own mind displayed so painfully in front of him and as is his way, he fights his fear with annoyance. “I see it every time I look at you.” His voice is shakier than he wants it to be, but that doesn’t stop him. “What I’ve done –”

“What you have done is save my life.” Jim interrupts, forces the words out of his mouth through gritted teeth. His hands are clenched into fists and he looks disappointed, _so disappointed_ at Leonard.

It sparks an illogical angry flame in the pit of Leonard’s stomach. Because doesn’t Jim see that _that_ isn’t what Leonard’s done?

That there wasn’t anything left to save in the first place?

“No, Jim, I created it. I made life where there was none left and it’s…” Leonard tries, tries to make Jim see. Understand. But he trails off, falters in the face of seeing tears in Jim’s eyes.

“You wish things had been different?” Jim asks, his voice trembling. “That perhaps you’d never have brought me back?”

“Jim, no.” It comes out as a hoarse whimper because _no_. Leonard would suffer a lifetime if it means to have Jim alive – the sun which his lonely planet orbits around.

But he doesn’t have the time to say those words. Or at least not to Jim.

Because with a mumbled “I can’t deal with this right now,” his friend has already turned around and walked away.

 

\---

 

Leonard doesn’t know how he finds his way to his room.

One moment he’s standing alone on the street in front of a bar watching Jim walk away as his heart shatters into a million pieces and the next he’s in the shower, slumped in the corner with water cascading over him as he cries and cries and cries.

At least Jim is alive, he tells himself. He might not be Leonard’s – not that he ever was, not in the way Leonard’s always wanted – but he’s _alive_.

Jim is right. Is right that it isn’t just Leonard suffering. He is right and hurt and Leonard has thrown it all back into his face. Yet even if it’s made Jim hate him, he’s alive and that’s all that really matters.

All that’s ever mattered.

If only his heart would believe it.

 

The bathroom door opens suddenly, a figure stumbling in and Leonard tries to see through both water and tears but his eyes can’t quite focus.

Logically he knows it can only be Jim.

Emotionally he doesn’t dare believe, doesn’t dare hope.

But the man joining him in the shower is most definitely Jim.

Jim who kneels down, his clothes getting soaked but he ignores it, doesn’t seem to care in the face of finding Leonard broken in the shower.

Jim who wraps his arms around Leonard’s naked body, whose weight presses against Leonard’s side and who leans a cheek against Leonard’s hair.

Jim whose fingers stroke Leonard’s arm, up and down with soft comforting strokes while the words “it’s gonna be okay” fall from his lips in a constant whisper.

Jim, who despite – or perhaps because of–  everything, is still Leonard’s sun.

 

They’re lying in Leonard’s bed, on top of the blankets with Jim’s arms around Leonard. The palms of Jim’s hands steady and comforting against Leonard’s back while Leonard’s face is buried in the curve of Jim’s neck, hands clinging to the other’s side and his fingers pressing little red marks in Jim’s skin.

Jim doesn’t seem to mind Leonard clinging to him as they lie close in a heartbreaking intimacy they’ve never shared before.

The transition in their relationship has come at a moment Leonard could not ever have dreamt off – not even in a nightmare. Their hearts finally finding each other in the wake of having it broken.

They haven’t spoken. Not when Jim turned off the shower and toweled Leonard down. Not when they both dressed, Jim changing his wet clothes for a set of Leonard’s extra shirts and shorts. They didn’t need words when Leonard had crawled onto the bed and Jim had joined him, arranging themselves on top of the sheets, Jim tenderly holding and Leonard desperately clinging.

They might both have lost one another, but only Leonard has visions of the dead.

A shiver wrecks through Leonard at the thought and for a moment his grip tightens.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against the hollow of Jim’s throat. “I shouldn’t have said those words.”

Jim ghosts a kiss against the top of Leonard’s head instead of speaking. He doesn’t say _it’s all right_ because it isn’t, not really.

“I know I hurt you. It’s just that… it terrifies me, how much I’d do for you.” Leonard admits and pulls back his head from Jim’s warm skin so he can look the other in the eyes.

For a moment, they merely watch each other, their eyes caught and it almost feels as if they’re staring right into the other’s soul – the love, the anger, the pain, all of it.

“I defied fate for you, played God and broke almost all medical ethics.” Leonard mumbles softly, almost afraid to speak louder than a whisper in the silent room which is lit only by the artificial moonlight streaming in from the window. He raises one of his hands from Jim’s waist to brush the pad of his thumb over Jim’s cheek. “All that just because I couldn’t stand the thought of having to spend even a day without you.”

There’s love in Jim’s eyes, understanding and pain and he raises one of his hands to slide into Leonard’s hair so gently it’s like he’s saying _I couldn’t stand the thought of living without you, either_.

“What I did for you, it’s tearing me apart.” Leonard admits and his thumb stills on Jim’s cheek, tears burning in his eyes. “Not because I wish I hadn’t done it but because I’d do it all again. But only for you.”

Jim sucks in a deep breath, eyes wide. He stares at Leonard, eyes searching for something and it’s clear he doesn’t know what to say. How to react to the admission of what can only be considered an almost eternal love.

But it’s more than that and Jim knows it.

It’s not just love. It’s trust, it’s fear and it’s Leonard’s broken spirit that needs mending, _so_ much mending.

“It’ll be all right, Bones. We’ll get there.” Jim draws Leonard to him again, lets him bury his head in the curve of his neck while Jim holds him tight, fingers digging in Leonard’s back. There’s tears against Jim’s neck, just like they are burning in his own eyes and he lays a hand on Leonard’s hair while he draws a shuddering breath. “The both of us. Together.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://thevalesofanduin.tumblr.com/) <3


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